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Looking at Persephone, I can see there is an angelic quality to her. Silvery hair and crystal-clear eyes. She is a goddess incarnate, and she is beauty personified. I have to have her.
"Well, looky here," Clotho says in a low, gravelly voice. "Little Persephone came out to play."
I shoot a dagger-like glare at Clotho. She and I may have shared a bed a few times in the past, but that doesn't mean I owe her my allegiance. "Don't start,” I warn.
"Defensive are we, Zeus?" she says with a smirk, crossing her arms and lifting her chin.
"We all know you want to be the hero," Atropos says, "but I want to know why you four are standing here when there is a dance floor waiting for you." She licks her lips as if waiting for someone to pull her out to dance. And since her eyes are set on Poseidon I have an idea of who she wants to dance with.
"We're busy," Hades says without a hint of softness in his voice.
"No one asked you," Lachesis purrs. "I was wondering if Ares would--"
She's cut off. "No," Ares says firmly. "I'm busy at the moment."
Considering we're all standing around drinking, I doubt the Fates will buy his excuse. I'm right. The moment the words fall from Ares’ lips the Fates turn to Persephone, as if deciding she is the target.
"What?" Persephone asks, pressing a hand to her chest, not at all realizing that the four men standing her are already devoted to her. But I have an inkling the Fates can read the intensity in the circle. It's as if they can sense our desire.
And it angers them. That is the last thing any of us gods want -- if you are on the Fates bad side, you're screwed. They play games, lots of them, and none of them are very nice. Over the years, we've learned the best thing to do when they come close, is to give them a tiny sliver of attention to get them off your back. More than anything, they hate to feel slighted.
"Um, Sephy, could I speak with you for a moment?" Gaia grabs her friend’s arm and drags her away.
"Wait," Persephone squawks. "What are you--"
But she's already pulled out of earshot. In the distance, I see Gaia and Persephone speaking in hushed tones and I wish I had the power to listen in.
"I want to dance," Lachesis whines. "Don't make me wait any longer."
The four of us gods share a long, hard look. We have our baggage. Hell, my brothers Hades and Poseidon and I have had plenty of things to fight over in the past -- like our father. Ares, too, is volatile, hot-tempered, and jealous. In truth, all of us are.
But for some reason we all turn toward Persephone. She wears a long gown, her shoulders are bare, her collarbone exposed and erotic. All arguments we may have had in the past are erased -- at least from my point of view. When I look at her, all I see is the future.
"You're going to upset us," Clotho complains. "And when we get upset we don't play nice."
"Fine," Ares says with a firm tone, knowing he has to take one for the team. He breaks away from the group and takes Clotho’s’ hand. He knows that if we don't give the Fates what they want, they will make our lives a living hell.
"And Poseidon, you won't leave me out, will you?" Lachesis asks in a sugary voice that is dripping in falsity.
Poseidon's brown eyes darken, but with a clenched jaw he nods, letting Lachesis lead him to the dance floor.
Then Atropos gives me a candied look, licking her lips. My stomach rolls; the last thing I want is to move around the dance floor with her, but I also know that, if I don't, she is going to make Persephone's life miserable.
I won't put her through that.
So, I do what I must. I take Atropos' cold, callused hand in my own, refusing to look down at her revealing gown. Instead, I keep my gaze straight ahead.
I will dance with her, just this once.
Because I already know that afterwards, I will dance with Persephone for the rest of my life.
She may not know it yet, but she is mine.
4
Persephone
"You're wrong," I tell my best friend. "They're already off dancing with the Fates. You're stretching to think they all want me."
Gaia just shakes her head, reaching for a passing waiter. She places our empty flutes on a platter and takes two more glasses of nectar for us, offering him a smile.
"They already confessed their love for you, Persephone."
I swallow, wondering if any of what they said was actually true. It felt true. "They were just being silly."
"No. They weren't. Trust me, I know how gods get," she presses. "Possessive."
